Anyway, Anyhow, Anywhere
by Roxy0800
Summary: One shot Gene/Alex that shows how they deal with their feelings after an arguement. Galex! Slight swearing but nothing major.


_This is just a one shot based on a piece of English coursework that I recently did, I got an A for it in case anyone is interested, any way I've changed it quite a bit now so that it suits the characters more though really it was really based on Alex and Gene all the time just without the slight swearing and non of the references to previous episodes. Don't worry I am continuing with my very long running story and hopefully I should update soon when I stop faffing around and feel in the mood to concentrate. Please read and review as though this is a one shot I want to see if you agree with my English teacher._

**Disclaimer: Obviously this is Ashes to Ashes and do you really think that if I owned it I would be writing this stuff, no I would be watching it happen on the television. Also the title is named after one of David Bowie's songs, which I also don't own.**

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**Anyway, Anyhow, Anywhere**

Raising his hands over her head, he allowed them to smooth over her soft silky skin draping the silver chain around her and clumsily doing up the catch at the back before arranging her hair so it cascaded gently over her shoulders once again.

At that moment she was blissfully happy. All of her worries and doubts momentarily lost into oblivion and it seemed that they would be for the considerable future. Leaning in towards her he whispered in her ear "Let's go," as he whispered it his warm musky breath tickled against her skin making her nerves tingle with excitement. Reaching out she took his hand in hers and lead him out of the bar, choosing to ignore the shocked looks on the faces of their colleagues. The sky outside was a midnight blue that glittered with the sparsely scattered stars; the air, humid but with a sharp edge as the wind brushed past against their cheeks. A soft glow from the street lights, reflected in the smashed glass at their feet causing the dark walls of the surrounding buildings to dance with patches of light as their retreating feet gently trod on the shattered bottle pieces.

It had taken them along time to get that far. They had started off the evening sitting separately. The man had been sat in the corner booth of the dark and gloomy bar lost in thought, occasionally running his fingers through his old blonde hair; he had never used to do it. It was all her fault. She made him nervous. His thoughts were occasionally interrupted by jeers coming from the other end of the bar, making jokes at the barman's Italian heritage. "Grassy arse Luigi. Grassy arse," boomed Chris.

To which the barman would grunt a reply, followed by the rest of them laughing in unison, something which always amazed him. They couldn't walk in a straight line yet they were able to laugh at precisely the right time. Not too long ago he would have been a member of that group, well before Sam died anyway, he had been a bit more of a loner after that.

She was perched on a stool at the bar far away from her drunken colleagues and was elegantly sipping at the glass of wine he had nonchalantly poured her earlier, carefully twisting the neck of the bottle so that the final drop of red liquid would roll back inside. That one drop could cause so much damage, spreading like poison through the white material of her jacket, he'd done that before and as a result had had to pay for it to be dry-cleaned, and that had dented his weekly budget considerably. Just like his words had done earlier. His words, killing all the hope that he had found in their relationship, spoiling what he had hoped to be the perfect moment. And just like before he was now paying the price. He had muttered "sorry," as he poured it but somehow he felt his words were dissolved into the alcoholic beverage, which wasn't quite alcoholic enough to suit his yearning to drown his sorrows.

He was still dressed in the dark grey suit and burgundy tie that he'd worn to work that morning. Work, he thought, it hadn't been such a good day that day. He had spent the day waiting for the perfect moment. He'd thought it had finally arrived when they were alone in the office; their various assortments of colleagues had departed to the station canteen leaving them alone. One of them had come in from a tea break announcing "Treacle pudding and custard's on boys!" and he hadn't had the strength to keep them within the confined office space, and really couldn't care less as the case they were working on was clearly going nowhere.

It was probably the quietest that the room had been in years; with no sound of fingers tapping on typewriters, no darts hitting the dart board and more noticeably no stupid stunts being pulled by some of the more dense employees of the Met. This was why it had been the perfect moment.

It had been a particularly trying day which had eventually resulted in a frustration level bordering on boiling point, but the calm had established itself over the room as she sat at her desk tackling the piles of paper work which had gradually accumulated over the weeks because of it being somewhat ignored by the rest of the team. As she leant back on her chair, he had thought it to be the right moment to go over, as she appeared to be taking a break from the various forms and interviews, which had needed signing. Reaching the front of her desk he had placed his hands on the cool metal frame and raised his gaze to meet with hers, however her reaction threw him. Slamming down the file that she had been reading, he was met with a torrent of long complicated words pouring out of her mouth, many of which he had never encountered before in his life.

"What on earth have you been doing? I'll tell you what you've been doing... Absolutely nothing! I meanwhile have been sat here slaving away over the paperwork that you and your so-called employees have deemed too trivial for to be associated with... Well I am not going to stand for it, you think that because I am a woman that I should do all of the inconsequential and insignificant tasks because you are too indolent and self-opinionated to do any work that could prove to be slightly problematical," she had yelled, wrapping her tongue around each of the words so that though she was angry it was still perfectly articulated. Her face flushing the same red colour as the bench that he was now sat on. She would probably have called it carmine or maroon, but simple red was good enough for him. 'Posh Bitch," he thought fondly.

He had shouted back to, but he didn't want to remember that. He had seen the hurt in her eyes when he had shouted that final phrase, hidden tears threatening to spill out from the corners of her eyes. His wife Susie, an ex-wife now, had always said that he had a fiery temper, but she'd never fought back. They had lived their miserable married lives without even a single plate being thrown in his direction. That had all gone up in smoke though, just like his car. His wife had left him for another woman and set fire to his car as a parting gift. 'Stupid cow' he thought, not so fondly this time.

For a few hours he had thought that she had left him too, he had imagined the worst as she stalked out of the office swearing that she never wanted to see him again as long as she lived; those hours had been the longest in his life, even longer than those days spent in the hospital after the birth of his daughter, as she lay fighting for breath in the insulator. Don't get me wrong he had loved his daughter, and still did but he had known right from the start that she wasn't going to make it. It was just his wife who had seemed to think otherwise, she had despised his lack of faith in their daughter, but he called it being 'realistic.' It was that that had driven the wedge between them, and years afterwards it remained, that single solitary granite gravestone proving an unbreakable barrier. He had imagined that happening now, never setting eyes on her again all because of some stupid words said in a flash flood of anger.

He hadn't wanted to go to the bar that evening but had been dragged along by his so called friends, even when he insisted that they bought all his drinks that evening. A few measures of whisky later, and he was just drunk enough to be relaxed but wasn't quite at the slurring of the words stage when she entered. The door clanging shut to announce her arrival, that was something she had learnt off him, how to make an entrance and it certainly earnt her lots of stares from the male occupants of the bar. "Alright Love?" they had shouted or "What you up to later? I'm in need of some exercise!" She wouldn't give them a second look he knew that, but he was still filled with a mixture of jealousy and anger, especially as several of the drunks were those 'friends' who had dragged him here earlier. They would certainly be given a talking to tomorrow. It wasn't as if they knew about his relationship with her, but she was their senior officer and certainly deserved more respect than she was being given.

"Oy you lot," he had shouted, "give the lady some more respect or you can all head off home." O.K. so he had been doing it to impress her and try to get her back on side, but he really did believe it. Honest.

She could tell that her presence in the room was beginning to take its toll on him; the sweat beginning to dribble down his forehead. Though thankfully, as she was still pretending to be angry with him, he hadn't noticed that a similar thing was happening to her. From her position on the bar stool she could see him rooting through his pockets searching for a handkerchief, he was the only man she knew that still carried a handkerchief around with him. Her dad had used to but she didn't like to think about him after what had happened. After what he had done. Snapping her subconscious back from the painful memories she turned her gaze back to him and saw as his fingers wrapped around a box shaped object that she could just make out in his inner pocket.

He hadn't managed to give her the gift that morning, his perfect moment had been somewhat spoilt as she stormed out of the office. Or, he thought had it ever really been the perfect moment? He had never been good at choosing the right moment. He'd become confused, been unable to separate their work life and personal life. Recently the line between the two had become blurred, or even erased. Those stolen kisses in his office and discussing cases over dinner, it had confused him. He, like most men was easily confused. Especially when it came to women.

She appeared to be confused as well, sat there staring into the bottom of her wine glass, the glass winking at him as the light caught it. Like she's reading bloody tealeaves he thought. Alcohol never held the answers, he should know. He'd drunk enough of it in his life to sink the titanic, and probably several other boats.

Though apparently she had found the answers or an answer at least, slipping her slim and slender denim clad legs from the stool she attempted to saunter casually over, sliding into the booth next to him.

Slowly drawing a box from his pocket he placed it on the table in front of her. "I ermn," clearing his throat he started again, "I got you something," he muttered, pushing the box slightly more towards her. It wasn't the most romantic way of doing it, but that wasn't his way, and he wasn't going to change that for any woman, even her.

Yet, again her reaction wasn't quite what he had hoped, her face looked like thunder. He looked questioningly at the box, nope it was definitely the right one and he couldn't see anything on it that could so easily cause offence. Christ! He thought, first they yell at you for not being thoughtful or considerate enough, and then you buy them a present to illustrate how thoughtful you can be and they still aren't happy.

"You can't just make everything better by buying me presents you know. Relationships don't work like that," she hissed, obviously wanting to shout, but trying not to cause yet another scene between them that would be witnessed by the rest of the team. Relationships just don't work full stop, he thought.

"I bought it you weeks ago, not because we argued," he hissed back, becoming increasingly annoyed at how she seemed to take every available opportunity to criticise him, especially when this time he hadn't done anything wrong. He had first thought of giving her the necklace when they had sat in that same booth; as usual his eyes had been slowly drifting up her body drinking in every detail. As he reached the low cut pink top, that she had squeezed into, his eyes had rested upon the chain that had hung delicately around her neck. That posh lawyer bloke, who hung around like a bad smell had given it her, he'd been around that morning but fed up now with the unwanted attention with which he showered her she had soon gotten rid of him. After all they were together now, so he had decided to replace the old with the new.

He loved her he really did. He wasn't usually one for all this gushy love stuff, in fact when the soppy dedications came onto the radio he always changed the station, yet now he found himself feeling those same feelings as it appeared other men had done before him. She was something new, something foreign, and someone who was bloody beautiful. Yet she had the ability drive him mad with just a few short sharp slicing words, poking her slender finger into his chest in order to emphasise her point. That was why he loved her not despite of her faults but because of them, he was there for the whole package, and that was what this necklace was supposed to symbolise.

Visibly softening at his words she shifted slightly closer towards his body, so close that he was almost certain she would be able to hear his heart racing. Reaching again to the table he lifted the box, and traced his fingers around the edge, searched blindly for the join, his eyes never once leaving hers. His fingers prised the box open, struggling slightly due to his lack of nails; he had a tendency to bite them, another thing he did when he got nervous. The delicate silver chain shone brightly in contrast to the dark cushioning upon which it was set, the heart shaped pendant completed with a diamond in the corner finishing off the gift to perfection. Breathing out with amazement a smile lit up her face, she knew how shallow it must make her seem, to be made this happy by a gift. But she was sure he understood, it wasn't the necklace that made her face light up, it was the thoughtfulness, the generosity and the love that had gone into it. Stretching her arms up to her neck she unhooked the chain that she had been wearing and laid it carelessly on the table, keen to show how it had no sentimental value to her at all. Turning her back to him, she pulled her curly brown hair into one hand and lifted it up to reveal pale bare skin, so that he could place the precious gift around her neck. Then leaving the restaurant hand in hand, they stepped out into the street.

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End file.
